Supers and Slide Guitars
by Qoheleth
Summary: A story of loss, heartbreak, wild hope, blissful reunion, and several bad puns involving country music lyrics.
1. An Incredible's Vigil

Disclaimer: The movie from which this story draws belongs to Brad Bird; the song from which this chapter draws belongs to LeAnn Rimes.

* * *

"In super news, the big story of the week is the search for Elastigirl and Count Malediction following their mutual fall off the Count's jungle obelisk on Thursday morning," said David Brinkley's face on the flickering television screen. "The National Superhero Bureau has dispatched teams to search the heavily forested area near where the fall occurred, but neither the heroine nor the villain nor either of their bodies has yet been found. NSB director Rick Decker has issued a statement saying that there is reason to believe that at least one of the combatants is still alive, but that any definite statement on the subject would still be premature…" 

Bob Parr buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"Darling," said Edna Mode, touching his elbow with atypical gentleness, "you must not give in to despair. Helen is a remarkably resilient child; if any super could survive that fall, it would be her."

Bob did not respond, and, after a moment, Edna sighed and walked out of the room, over to the doorway where Derek Goellner, Modenheim's chief of security, was standing.

"Pretty sad picture, isn't it?" said Goellner. "Mr. Incredible, reduced to flipping through TV news shows."

Edna nodded.

"I mean, it's just wrong," said Goellner. "Someone this strong shouldn't be watching _This Week_."

Edna spread her arms. "Darling, nothing about love makes sense."


	2. A Syndrome's Proposal

Disclaimer: This time, the song is by Taylor Swift.

* * *

Edna poked her head into the room. "Darling?" she said. "A telephone call for you."

Bob looked up and frowned. "For me?"

Edna nodded, with an expression suggesting that she didn't much care for the caller. Puzzled, Bob lifted himself up from his chair, went into the main hall of Modenheim, and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" he said.

"Well, well," said an all-too-familiar voice. "If it isn't old Red Inc himself."

Bob froze. "Syndrome II," he hissed.

"None other," said that notorious super-villain. "I understand you're having a little trouble locating the Mrs. All those local villagers that Count Malediction trained by fear pumping blow-gun darts into NSB operatives, and so forth."

"And if we are?" said Bob, forcing his voice to remain steady.

"What you need is a probe," said Syndrome II. "Something that could search that entire area of the jungle without the Condenados recognizing it for what it is. A robotic parrot, maybe, made to look just like the real thing."

"I see," said Bob. "And just what is your stake in all this, Synny?"

"Well, it's not for me to say, of course," said the successor to Buddy Pine, "but when you think 'tin macaw', I _hope_ you think of me…"


	3. A Probe's Discovery

Kenny Chesney gets the honors this time round.

* * *

Bob stared at the viewscreen in his hand, seeing everything Syndrome II's Trojan Trogon Tracker™ was seeing as it flew over the jungle, as unobtrusive as a mechanical resplendent quetzal can be (which is to say, not very).

"All right, Syn, explain this to me again," he said. "You've tried to kill my wife on at least six occasions. Why are you suddenly so eager to help me save her?"

From the audio-link in his ear, he heard Syndrome II clear his throat. "Well, there are several reasons," he said, elaborately casual. "One is that I've always had a secret longing to blast all five of you off the face of the Earth personally, and I'm not crazy about the idea that Count Malediction might have beaten me to it…"

"And another reason," interrupted a throaty, heavily accented voice, "is that he knows that, if he doesn't try to help you, I will incinerate him with his own rocket boots while he sleeps."

Bob grinned. "Ah, Mirage," he said. "I should have known. Behind every great man…"

Then he broke off, and stared down at the screen. "Whoa, whoa!" he said. "Back up, quick!"

But Syndrome II needed no urging. The Trojan Trogon Tracker kicked into reverse (which meant that any birdwatcher on the ground was treated to the remarkable sight of a quetzal flying backwards) and slowly panned over the greenery below until it came to a halt over a small clearing, in the middle of which lay a small, unconscious figure in red Flexo-Fiber.

Bob stared at this image, unable to speak, for several minutes before he became aware of Syndrome II's voice over the audio-link. "Well, there you go," he said. "Latitude 11 degrees, 13 minutes, 43 seconds south; longitude 46 degrees, 0 minutes, 17 seconds west. If I were you, I'd hop a plane and get out there before she wakes up and moves again."

Bob shook his head. "You know, Syn," he said, "I was using 'great man' facetiously just now, but I have to admit you have some kind of gift."

"Absolutely," cooed Mirage. "Brilliant, sensitive, _and_ fond of birds. He's the only one who really understands what gets me."

Bob swore he could hear the second Syndrome smirk. "She thinks my Tracker's sexy."


	4. A Story's End

Author's note: And Doug Stone makes four.

* * *

Helen rolled over in the Belém hotel bed and smiled up at her husband. "Morning, honey."

Bob just stared at her wonderingly. He was still finding it hard to believe that the previous evening hadn't been a dream: that he and Lucius had actually flown to Brazil, hacked their way through two or three miles of Brazilian rain forest, and then, just when they were both starting to believe that they would die of malaria before they picked up Helen's trail, had turned a corner and spied her lying beneath a rubber tree, gaunt, bedraggled, and sunburned from her sojourn in the jungle, but still more beautiful than her Trojan namesake had ever dreamed of being.

And it was all thanks to Syndrome II. That was the surreal part. If it hadn't been for the president-for-life of the International Criminals' Union, Helen might very well have perished from exposure before anyone had managed to locate her.

"It puts the ICU in a different light," Bob murmured to himself.

Helen frowned. "What does?"

Bob turned to her, and smiled. "Just the way I saw you last night."


End file.
